


A Study in Clefairy

by rougewinter



Series: The PokéLock Adventures [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pokemon AU, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougewinter/pseuds/rougewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective and (reluctant) Pokémon Trainer. Pokémon AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Clefairy

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to [Alphera](http://alphera.livejournal.com/) for her superb beta skills and [Mushroom](http://mushroom18.livejournal.com/) for the chapter title. Both of you have been great cheerleaders and thank you for putting up with my cracksanity.

Sherlock had never considered himself to be the type to raise Pokémon. Aside from the statistical unlikelihood of him ‘catching them all’ (given that there were hundreds already in existence with new species being discovered practically every day), he thought the prospect of building bonds of friendship with the creatures unappealing and unnecessary. He found the idea of following the path of great trainers like Red (what kind of a name is _Red_ anyway?) unoriginal and terribly boring. He was content to seclude himself with his experiments and catalogue the differences in cigarette ash. But Professor Hudson had tutted and told him that despite his _mature_ age, he should go out on an adventure to explore the world of Pokémon and make new friends.

And so, after he cleaned up her husband’s mess, Mrs. Hudson gifted him with a Charmander, tucked a few bottles of potion, some pokéballs, a map, and a PokéDex into the inner linings of his coat before the professor all but threw him out of Pallet Town. Sherlock was convinced this was all just to keep him from destroying her walls. 

With no choice but to do as she asked, Sherlock easily made his way through Route 1 (dull) and was past Viridian City (where he would have challenged the Gym Leader, had the Gym not been closed) and eventually found himself in the middle of the dark Viridian Forest. The few bug catchers he had fought presented no real challenge (with their below average intellect, it was quite easy for Sherlock to predict and direct their actions); however, they did still manage to weaken his Charmander, much to Sherlock’s frustration. 

Making use of his last potion (hopefing it will last them until they reach the next town for a PokéCenter), Sherlock proceeded through the forest. He wasn’t even two steps into a tall patch of grass when was he treated to a rather aggravating encounter with a wild Pokémon. 

Sherlock glared down at the Caterpie, unsuccessful in his efforts to will it into submission with his mind. After a few minutes of fighting, Charmander was exhausted and Sherlock was cursing his Pokémon for not having learned any special moves yet. How hard was it to simply set the wriggling thing on fire anyway? The fact that the Caterpie was close to fainting as well was little consolation. 

Calculating that the odds were better if he tried to capture the blasted bug rather than risk Charmander missing an attack, he fished out a Pokéball from his coat pocket. 

“ _Don’t_ make me bring out the riding crop.” He warned before throwing the red and white sphere at the insect. 

It was only after Sherlock heard the resounding ‘click’ that signalled his triumphant capture of the Caterpie did he understand the attraction of being a trainer. He catalogued the odd sense of excitement he felt and, although he wasn’t completely sold on the idea just yet, he could appreciate the appeal. 

A rustling in the bushes caught his attention, but he wasn’t all that concerned. Judging by the laboured breathing and the pace and weight of the footfalls, it could only be Mike Stamford, one of Professor Hudson’s assistants, making his way through the forest. 

“Sherlock!” The jovial man called out as he came to stand beside Sherlock. 

“Finally becoming a Pokémon trainer, I see.” 

Sherlock pocketed his captured Caterpie before scooping up his tired Charmander. He was about to ask Mike for a potion when he noticed the assistant’s eyes focused sympathetically on the low flicker of Charmander’s flame. 

“I should get him to a PokéCenter.” Sherlock said, willing to risk running into more wild Pokémon rather than endure the look of pity in Stamford’s eyes. 

“It’s a bit of a way off.” Stamford stated. “But lucky for you, I happen to have a friend who’s in the area.”

\--

John looked at the pokéball in his hand as he stood in one of the forest’s clearings, his loyal Chansey by his feet munching on a berry. He sighed as he ran his thumb over the tri-coloured surface, wondering why his Magikarp, even after all this time, refused to evolve. He went through quite a number of battles with the fish but no matter how much experience the water Pokémon acquired, Magikarp continued to be stubborn. He’d heard that a Pokémon’s development was dependent on a trainer’s attitude. Maybe John’s reluctance to trust was affecting his Pokémon. With a sigh, John wondered if he was cut out to be a Pokémon trainer after all. 

The sound of movement coming towards him snapped him out of his thoughts. He straightened up and pocketed the pokéball as he made out the silhouettes of two men. When the two figures emerged from the darkness, his left hand instinctually moved to grasp at the empty space by his hip before he could stop himself. It was a habit left over from his days in the service – to reach for the Styler strapped to his hip. 

He relaxed slightly when he saw Stamford’s familiar face, but he was still wary of the tall, dark-haired man carrying a Charmander. John’s Chansey, however, turned to the newcomers with a happy grin. 

“John.” Mike called his name in greeting before making the appropriate introductions. “This is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is an old friend of mine, John Watson.” 

“Fiore or Almia?” The man asked as he extended a hand to shake John’s.

“Uhm, sorry?”

“Which was it: Fiore or Almia?” Sherlock’s hand, once introductions were over, went back to cradle his Charmander.

John turned to look at Mike, who did nothing but look smug. 

“Fio...re.” John said with a small frown as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “How did you-?”

The weak wail from the Pokémon in Sherlock’s arms derailed John’s questioning and his professional training took over. 

“Oh god, here, let me.” John made soft soothing sounds to calm the Charmander as he gently took the Pokémon from the odd trainer. He then slowly knelt down beside his Chansey; she didn’t need any prompting to begin healing the worn-out orange lizard. John had trained _her_ well, at least.

“You’ll feel all better soon.” John whispered softly as he petted down the fire Pokémon’s back while Chansey worked to revitalize Charmander. He was focused on Charmander’s recovery that he didn’t notice the way Sherlock was looking at him in fascination. 

When Charmander regained enough energy, he smiled and sounded out in thanks to the large pink Pokémon. He then turned to John, playfully nuzzled his head against John’s palm and looked up at the doctor with adoring blue eyes before bounding back up into Sherlock’s arms. 

Sherlock cleared his throat before offering a soft ‘thank you’. 

“No problem.” John said with a friendly smile as he looked up at Sherlock from his crouched position. “Do you have any other Pokémon you’d like me to heal for you?”

Sherlock had just handed John a pokéball when two strangers emerged from different parts of the clearing. 

“I got your message, what’s going on?” One of the bug catchers asked his friend, oblivious to the three men close by who could hear their conversation. 

“It happened again. In Pewter this time.” 

Even though John’s attention was focused on Chansey and the Caterpie, he noticed how Sherlock seemed to perk up at the conversation. 

“This is the fourth one, isn’t it?” The bug catcher asked as he wrung his hands nervously. 

“Yeah. Word is, they’re serial suicides.” 

“Wrong.” Sherlock grumbled beside him before suddenly taking off in a dead run, completely forgetting the Caterpie that was still in John’s care. It seemed even Charmander was caught unawares at the sudden disappearance of his trainer, needing to quicken his pace to catch up to Sherlock as the man disappeared into the darkness of the forest. 

“Yep.” Stamford said with a nod. “He’s always like that.” 

\--

Lestrade came out of the PokéMart with refreshments in hand. He needed the fresh air to let him think after hitting a dead end with this new body so he went for a walk. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a familiar figure moving towards him. Lestrade quirked an eyebrow; the Charmander was new. 

“You need me.” Sherlock said, not bothering with social niceties. 

Lestrade sighed and turned to the man. “Look, Sherlock-.”

“This is the fourth one now, Lestrade. And something’s different. You. Need. Me.” 

Lestrade leveled his gaze at Sherlock, trying to get the man to back down, but he knew Sherlock was right. Frowning, he agreed to let Sherlock take a look. With helpless resignation, he headed to the crime scene first to inform the others that Sherlock was dropping in (and to smooth away any objections anyone may have before the man arrived). 

Sherlock heard John call his name when the shorter man finally caught up with him in Pallet Town.

Charmander gave a happy yip when he saw John coming. 

“Ah, good, you’re here.” Sherlock said in greeting. “You served as a doctor and a Pokémedic when you were with the Rangers, did you not?” 

“You left your Cater–. Wait, how do you know that?” 

“You’ve probably seen some pretty gruesome things in your time.” Sherlock continued, taking the pokéball from John. “Bit of trouble too, I’d bet.”

“Yes, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.” 

“I need your assistance with something, Doctor Watson. Will you come? Could be dangerous.”

John was pretty sure his therapist would have something to say about his propensity for jumping head first into trouble. But God help him, he went anyway. 

\--

After a quick scan of the body, Sherlock easily figured that the lady worked for Silph Co. (as evidenced by the watch on her wrist marking a decade of service with the company), in the marketing department (due to the alarming shade of pink she wore). From this, it was easy for Sherlock to deduce that she was on her way to attend a conference in Viridian Gym which Silph Co. was hosting to soft-launch their new product. The reveal was set for tomorrow. 

Just like the other three random deaths, the victim (Jen Wilson, according to her trainer card), came into contact with some poison; however, unlike the other three, Sherlock now had confirmation that this was, indeed, a string of murders. 

“How so?” John asked, as confused as Pewter’s Gym Leader Lestrade. 

Sherlock sighed as he thrust his hands into his coat pockets, looking at the pair like he couldn’t believe he was being subjected to their inability to grasp the painfully obvious. 

“Her Pokémon are gone. I’m sure even your simple minds can figure it out.” 

“Someone took them.” Lestrade voiced out. “But why take hers and not any of the other victims’?” 

His question was met with silence as Sherlock turned his attention to his mobile. John, on the other hand, kneeled down to take a closer look at the dead woman. He detected a foul smell coming from her mouth, not unlike the stench of trash. 

“Do you know what kind of poison killed her?” John asked as he moved to stand. He was able to grab Charmander on his ascent just as the Pokémon tried to get near the dead body, cradling the curious fire lizard to keep him from contaminating the corpse. John wasn’t sure if he was being too familiar with the Pokémon, but Sherlock didn’t seem to notice since he was still focused on his phone. In any case, Charmander seemed content to be in John’s arms, cooing while snuggling up to him and providing a comfortable warmth against his chest. John figured there was no need to let go just yet. 

“No.” Lestrade said with a deep frown. “We’re still waiting for the tox-results from the labs. I’m more interested in what she was trying to write though.” He pointed to the letters carved onto the wood floors. 

“Rachel,” Sherlock said, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he lifted his phone up to show Lestrade. “The name of her Clefairy; the same one that our murderer has with him.” Sherlock’s mobile showed the victim’s recent Pokémon PC usage, which detailed the transfer of a few strong creatures to and from her party. 

Lestrade looked impressed that Sherlock was able to get the information, before he realised that Sherlock just hacked into the woman’s PC account. By then, he looked torn on whether or not to charge the taller man with invasion of privacy.

“Bill owes me a few favours.” Sherlock said offhandedly. “The question is: why would she spend the last few moments of her life trying to write that name? It must have hurt, so why-? Oh.”

“What? What is it?” Lestrade asked, catching the familiar look on Sherlock’s face just as the taller man shouldered past him and out of the crime scene to head towards the PokéCenter. John and Lestrade followed dutifully behind Sherlock. 

“Alright, Sherlock.” Lestrade said with a frown once they’d secured a PC at the Center. “Explain.” 

“Silph Co. is working on a new pokéball technology, the prototype of which they will unveil tomorrow at the Viridian Convention. I saw the advertisement for it when I was on my way here.

“Speculation on the internet forums is that Silph was working to integrate a tracking system on the pokéballs in the event that a trainer would be stupid enough to lose them. I suppose, in this case, it has its uses. She must have known that there was no way she was getting out alive so she planted the prototype on our murderer. Logging into Jen Wilson’s PC account is simple enough and once we have access, all we have to do is input the name of the missing Pokémon and we’d be able to track it.”

“Hold on, that doesn’t make any sense.” John said, brows furrowing as he leaned close to Sherlock to get a better look at the screen. “It says the killer is at our location.” 

“Let’s try it again.” Lestrade suggested as he slipped into the chair Sherlock just vacated. He refreshed the program to no avail. “Huh. Maybe Silph’s got a glitch in their system. Lot of good that does for us.” 

“What do you make of this then, Sherlock?” John asked, turning to the taller man, only to find him gone. “Sherlock?” John called out again as he stepped out of the Center, not finding any sign of him there either. 

“Chaaaar.” The fire Pokémon called out worriedly beside John. Sherlock had run off again, and without even his Charmander this time. 

“Shit.” 

\-- 

“Charming.” Sherlock mumbled sarcastically as he took in his surroundings. 

He left the PokéCenter to investigate the source of the signal and came face to face with the killer in a Team Rocket outfit. Perhaps it wasn’t wise of him to get on board the murderer’s Pidgeot and let the Grunt to lead them both into one of the inner caverns of Seafoam Islands, but Sherlock had never been able to resist a good mystery. 

“I really don’t have time for all these dramatics,” Sherlock said with a wave of his arms, “So if you’re not going to show me how you killed your victims-…”

Smirking, the Grunt placed two identical Pokéballs on the ground between himself and Sherlock. 

“One of these balls contains a Koffing. The other is empty. You get to pick one and I’ll take the other. Then we battle. Of course, the one with the Koffing gets to live, since the Pokémon will attack the other party.”

Sherlock stared at the older man, boredom written across his face. “And you know which one has the Koffing.” 

“Of course I know. The whole point of this game is that _you_ don’t. _You’re_ the one that chooses. I won’t cheat. I’ll take whichever ball you don’t pick.” There was a glint in the Grunt’s eyes as he picked up one of the balls. “But this is where it gets interesting.” 

The other man moved the ball forward a few paces before stepping back. “Did I just give you the one with the Koffing or the empty one? Is it a bluff, or a double bluff, or a triple bluff? You can choose either one.” 

Sherlock couldn’t help but smirk when he realised how clever the set up was. “And if I don’t choose? What’s to stop me from leaving?” 

The Grunt pulled out another pokéball, throwing it in Sherlock’s direction and releasing his Pidgeot, commanding it to attack. Before Sherlock could think it through, he took out the pokéball strapped to him and chucked it at the bird. Instead of the Caterpie he expected to emerge from his ball, there lay a squirming and gasping Magikarp. 

“A...Magikarp?” The Rocket Grunt snorted as his Pidgeot waddled after the fish while the orange Pokémon wriggled away as best as it could. “That’s priceless!” 

Sherlock blinked as he pieced together how he got a Magikarp, frowning when he realised John must have given him the wrong pokéball by mistake. 

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Sherlock returned his gaze to the Grunt as the older man gestured to the red and white balls between them. “I suggest you choose one before my Pidgeot finally kills your fish and decides to go after you instead, Mr. Holmes.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Sherlock asked, glancing away briefly to determine how much longer he could stall before the bird finally speared the fish with its beak. John probably wouldn’t appreciate getting a dead fish back. “What do you get from killing four people?” 

“It’s my initiation.” The Grunt said with a dismissive shrug. 

Sherlock wanted to question the man more but the Grunt snarled as he spoke again, “Enough talking. Choose.” 

Reaching for the ball closest to him, Sherlock saw the Grunt pick the other one up as well. 

“Interesting.” The Grunt said with a barely-there smirk. It still wasn’t enough to give Sherlock an indication on which ball he picked.

“We’ll release the balls together on the count of three. One. T-.” The Grunt started to count off, but was cut off when a bright glow suddenly caught both men’s attention.

Sherlock turned to look at the two Pokémon at the corner of the cave and was surprised to find that the blinding light was coming from the Magikarp. His confusion didn’t last for long though, as when the brightness dimmed down, was a very tall, and very angry, Gyarados emerged in the fish’s place. 

With a loud roar, the Gyarados lashed out at Pidgeot, easily knocking it against the cave wall. Sherlock winced as he heard the crunch of bones before the bird slid to the cave floor, unconscious. It was then that the Gyarados turned its attention towards the two men and started charging at them. The large Pokémon gave high-pitched screech that stunned both men for a few moments, causing them to drop the balls in favour of shielding their ears instead. 

“I didn’t sign up for this!” The Rocket Grunt shouted as he shoved Sherlock away in an attempt to escape. A quick flip from Gyarados’ tail caused the Grunt to trip, and a pink ball (of course Jen Wilson’s pokéball would be _pink_ ) fell out of the Grunt’s pocket into the murky waters as the older man stumbled towards the exit. The Grunt wasn’t fast enough to escape. The Gyarados caught up with him and in one fell swoop, scooped the Rocket Grunt into its large mouth and swallowed him whole. 

The Grunt screamed out for help from ‘Moriarty’ before the large maws closed, but Sherlock didn’t have much time to mull the name over as he edged back from the flying water Pokémon. The large creature turned to give him one last look, must have decided he wasn’t very appetizing, and gave a final, bloodcurdling roar. The Pokémon made a huge splash as it dove into the water, getting Sherlock soaked in the process as it swam away. 

Sherlock waited a few moments before standing up, his clothes heavy and sopping wet. 

“Great.” He said to himself. “Now how do I get off this stupid island?” 

\-- 

“Swallowed.” Lestrade repeated after Sherlock with an impatient look. “By a Gyarados.” 

One didn’t have to be as intuitive as Sherlock to realise that Lestrade wasn’t buying any of it. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Gym Leader Lestrade. That’s what happened.” Sherlock said as he ran the towel over his hair, letting it soak up most of the water. He’d managed to hitch a ride with a passing trainer to Cinnabar Island where he got in touch with Lestrade. Sherlock was then quickly and efficiently transported back to Pewter City. He looked at his Charmander who was curled up beside him on the PokéCenter sofa and debated the merits of having his fire Pokémon dry him off.

“You expect me to believe that our murderer was eaten by a Gyarados?” Lestrade had his arms crossed now and frown-lines were marring his features. “They’re not even native to the Seafoam Islands.”

“Lestrade.” John cut in once he finished checking Sherlock over for any injuries. “There are witnesses saying they’ve noticed an angry Gyarados swimming away from Seafoam Islands a few hours ago. The body hasn’t been found yet either, right? What Sherlock said could very well have happened. They say Pokémon are very intuitive and perhaps it felt the need to protect itself.”

“Still.” Lestrade said with a scowl. “This is the first time I’ve heard of a Pokémon attacking humans.” 

John gave a tense chuckle. “It’s more common than you’d think.” 

Sherlock stood up then, ignoring the puddle that formed at his feet as he turned to Lestrade. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to be on my way now. My Pokédex isn’t going to fill itself, you know. I did just help you catch a murderer… More or less. 

“Come along, John.” Sherlock called out as he scooped up his surprised Charmander and made his way out of Pewter’s PokéCenter. John gave Lestrade a weak smile and went after Sherlock. 

“We should probably make sure your Gyarados keeps a low profile in the next few days. I don’t suppose you’d be charged for this, but best to avoid the court case if we can.” Sherlock spoke once he was sure they were alone. He handed John’s pokéball back, Gyarados safely inside. Sherlock may be new to all this Pokémon nonsense but he knew captured Pokémon would return to their pokéballs when you activated a switch on the red and white sphere. Another technological advancement thanks to Silph Co. 

“ _My_ Gyara-.” John had started to say but quickly closed his mouth when he realised he had switched up Sherlock and his pokéballs by mistake. Chuckling, John gently pushed the ball in Sherlock’s hand back to the taller man. “I’ve been trying to get my Magikarp to evolve for ages but he kept resisting. Clearly he’s more fond of you. You should hold on to him.” When Sherlock looked like he was about to protest, John patted the Caterpie by his hip and curled Sherlock’s fingers tighter around the sphere. “Consider it a trade.” 

Sherlock held John’s gaze for a few more moments before pulling his hand back with a smile. “Very well.” 

“So.” John said, grinning as he and Sherlock slowly made their way to Route 3. “You’re on an adventure to complete your Pokédex?” 

“Yes.” Sherlock said with some disdain. “Don’t suppose you’d like to keep me company, Doctor Watson? Your training as a Medic and Pokémon Ranger could come in handy.” 

“How did you know about Fiore, by the way?” John asked, slowing his pace. 

With a smug grin, Sherlock explained that regular trainers usually itched to battle with anyone that approached them. John did not act like one when he saw Sherlock emerge from the forest with Stamford. 

Inferring that John was a trained Medic was simple when he noticed how at ease John was with treating Pokémon. The rapport he had with his Chansey spoke of years of trust and experience; however, not having a clinic of his own or working in a PokéCenter suggested that John was trained in the field. Where else would a trained medic in the field be needed if not at a location where Pokémon were exposed to a lot of harsh elements and fights? This, along with the way John’s hand had twitched by his hip as if he was used to reaching for his Styler, told Sherlock that John had been a PokéRanger. 

John’s reason for being in the Kanto Region as a trainer and travelling medic instead of still being a PokéRanger, Sherlock said, must be due to something traumatic during his service that made John unable to form the necessary bonds of trust needed to activate the Capture Styler. The only question that remained to be answered was whether he had been based in Fiore or Almia. 

“Brilliant.” John said breathlessly when Sherlock finished his deduction. 

Sherlock blinked a few times, unused to hearing compliments regarding his skills. He coughed and turned away to hide his blush (which John saw anyway) and started leading them towards Route 3. 

“Oh, Sherlock, we should probably-.” John’s suggestion that they earn the Pewter Gym badge to be able to pass died in his throat when Sherlock fished out his trainer card and flashed the badge at the attendant standing guard. The man waved them through. John quickly followed before the guard could ask him for proof that he had defeated Lestrade in battle as well.

“How did you get that?” John asked once they rounded the corner, reaching for Sherlock’s trainer card to confirm if the badge was authentic. 

“I pickpocket Lestrade when he’s annoying.” The taller man said with a grin. Charmander sat back on his haunches between the two men facing each other, looking back and forth between them. 

“In Fiore…you were attacked by a Pokémon though, weren’t you?” John tensed when Sherlock asked the question, but when the taller man didn’t seem at all troubled by this fact, John breathed deeply and nodded. 

“Yes. A swarm of Beedrills had been riled up by one of the local gangs. We were called on to calm them down but one of them broke my Styler and, well.” John shrugged, just barely hiding the wince caused by the phantom pain in his left shoulder. “Like you said, they didn’t want me around anymore after I couldn’t form the bonds of trust needed to work a Styler.” 

Charmander seemed to have felt the tension in the air because he moved closer to John, brushing up against his leg. 

Sherlock’s eyes darted down to look at his Charmander purring softly by John’s calf. “It’s a good thing,” Sherlock said softly, “Not all of us need something silly like a Capture Styler to form proper bonds with Pokémon.” 

Sherlock’s wonderfully captivating eyes were so filled with excitement, amazement and the promise of adventure, that when Sherlock asked John again to join him, John didn’t even think about saying no. 

-end-

Comments are always welcome.


End file.
